sincerety of the stars (sincerety of black holes)
by selenicsoulmates
Summary: "There is no point in using the word 'impossible' to describe something that has clearly happened." Or, how the clueless Marco Diaz fell in love with Star Butterfly
1. Chapter 1

_**now there's no place else I could be but here in your arms**_

 **Summary: "I told you once that I've never been bored after you moved in. I meant that, Star," how Marco came to terms with how he feels for the Heir of Mewni.**

 **A.N:** I'm kinda iffy about this but I needed it to be done prior to the movie airing.

Consider it a vent fic? I guess? Whatever.

 **Edit:** This is a series now!

Please, _please_ consider leaving a review if you like it!

* * *

It's just like one of action movies Marco likes to watch after homework: the 12 DVD series he made her watch twice during her time on Earth.

A big explosion, and the main character's thrown across the screen. They struggle to get their bearings, and the world around them shifts and tilts and nearly crumbles (she remembers watching that part and gasping, grabbing onto Marco next to her on the couch and dropping popcorn onto the floor). The other main character runs to their side and yells things at them the character can't hear. It's just white noise, resonating to the audience in a fictional universe.

Except it's real and they've won and she _does_ hear him – she hears him over everything else, though a bit fuzzy and murmured. And even if she couldn't, she'd read it on the way it leaves his lips, the way it sticks on his cheeks like red velvet spreading up towards his ears. She can see it in his eyes – how they give way to the fear and anxiety he currently feels, the same feeling she felt a mere few months ago when she confessed.

But it's like her ears are ringing – her skull collapsing on itself (she thinks she got knocked out at some point when the roof of a bakery shop collapsed on her but she can't really remember), and the weight brings a dull ache and whatever he just said isn't helping.

"Wait," Star, covered in dirt and glitter and cuts and bruises, shakes her head and hands to slow him down, slow it all down. Most of the Mewni army is celebrating a well-won victory, though there are some soldiers waiting for further orders, listening in, and she can feel the eyes of both Mewmans and Monsters bearing down on her and her best friend, a yard apart from one another. "Wait, what did you just –"

"I love you," Marco repeats, letting words flow out in short breath, chest falling. His cape is torn and the arm that dropped his sword after the fight is dripping blood. "I love you, Star."

That's when the ringing stops in her ears and travels down to her chest. A light buzz, dull and soft, now echoed and constant and _loud_. So very loud.

She's waited _months_ for any sign of him feeling anything for her. Where was this coming from?

"Marco…" She looks around, eyes meeting the eager battle mates that have ceased their celebration to watch the two, "I –"

"It's okay," he laughs, looking off to the side in an attempt to avoid her gaze. Embarrassment creeps in after his sudden admission. "Uh, that was sorta outta nowhere and it probably freaked you out, right?" Marco's hand rubs at the back of his neck. "Well, not really ' _outta nowhere_ ' – this has been kinda creeping up on me ever since you left Echo Creek. But like, after a battle it's sorta outta nowhere, I mean. Am I rambling? I think I'm rambling. Anyway, we haven't talked about this in a while either so it's _definitely_ freaked you out. I mean," he laughs again, a little more forced this time and gestures to Star, who hasn't looked away (as if she could), "look at you! You're all pale and stuff – this was such a bad idea. Why did I just confess in front of everyone? Now they're all staring at us."

Rejection is scary, Star knows that. She's been there – weeks ago, in front of everyone. But she had a reason to be scared. He was with someone else at the time, and he was happy, and she had to tell him; she wasn't supposed to ever see him again. And now, months later, after what has felt like a standstill between the two of them with bursts of normalcy and sometimes what she thinks could be the hint of something blossoming, he's shot her with a glittery blast of emotions that has left her off-balance. What was he afraid of after her Narwhal Blast-sized confession? Shouldn't she be the one freaking out?

He spins in the other direction, shuffling in mortification towards their friends who stand in the front closest to the couple.. Which, if it were any other time, she'd totally call him out on.

"Anyway, I'm gonna –"

"Really?" Star manages to croak out, stopping Marco from escaping an embarrassing feat. When he turns back around, glancing at her with the utmost confusion, she points to herself. "You're like, actually serious about feeling that way for me?"

"Well," he laughs shortly, looking at her earnestly, "yeah."

"Totally serious?"

A nod. "I'm totally serious."

"Totally, totally, totally serious?"

"I'm totally, totally, totally serious, Star."

"Are you _sure_ , though? Because there was an explosion earlier and that did a real number to your hair and we don't know the possible head trauma that came with it," she gestures vaguely to his ridiculous tuffs of hair that stick out at odd places, while Marco pats on it sensitively. It's her turn to ramble - stuttering and avoiding his gaze. "And frankly, _I_ was under the impression that you didn't even know how you felt about everything and that you needed time, and –"

"Star," he interrupts.

She's worried – worried it'll backfire on her and she'll run off crying; a repeat of his summer bash party. There's been so much hurt for her and he doesn't want to be a source of it anymore.

"I've had time. I've had loads of time."

"But -"

"I spent three hours over one plate of nachos for you because you looked sad one time, and I couldn't stand seeing you that way," He starts, swallowing back nerves and recounting his moments with her. The ovens on Mewni were a disaster – built for cooking things only corn-based and became too hot too quickly, so he managed to burn five batches before Janna finally decided to help him out. The countless teasing about his insistence for making them wasn't appreciated, though – jabs at how dense he was and jokes about sharing melted cheese with a potential girlfriend. She laughed at him then, and she was laughing at him now, standing across the way next to Tom.

"I got into a fight with Tad because I told him your hair was prettier than Kelly's." Star laughs at that, tucking a strand behind her ear while a loud ' _Hey!'_ is heard behind him.

"I gave you three of my hoodies because I noticed you liked wearing them as capes." Pony Head had caught him walking in and out of her empty room with them, a glowing unicorn horn threateningly greeting his presence after dropping them off. She called him an idiot when he told her what he did – a dense idiot who didn't know what he was doing to her best friend by doing that.

Pony Head remembers, clearly. "You're still an idiot for that!"

Marco shakes his head solemnly, still paying attention only to Star, who could only gape back at him. "Not as much of an idiot as when your parents hosted that celebratory ball." He hears Tom groan – probably with a roll of all three of his eyes. "I was miserable that entire night because other royal consorts were able to dance with you more than I could." Star remembers that night too – Marco as handsome as ever, in shoulder tassels and white cloth and looking so downtrodden until she approached him with a curtsey, an outstretched hand, and an offer to dance. "I spent half the night ripping up bouquets and table cards and even then – even after Tom called me out on how jealous I felt, I had no idea why I was acting that way."

"I did!"

"Thanks, Tom," Marco tilts his head towards his friend, who replies with a sardonic thumbs-up. He exhales and looks back to Star, her expression expectant and eyes beginning to water.

"I've spent hours sitting on the sidelines just watching you master spells with your mom and tossing you juice pouches when you looked parched." The Queen regards them both quietly, a soft expression as she watches them both. She's been there before, with River, who stands next to her with his own silent affection and offers his hand. Moon's eyes drop away from her daughter and Marco, from a sight that brings back her own fond memories, to her husband's offered hand. She takes it, squeezing it gently.

"And on top of everything, I followed you to fight a battle that isn't my own. I followed as soon as you told me how you felt and left without any explanation, and I fought for you. And I'm still fighting, and I always will be as long as you need me to," he swallows and sighs.

"Because I'm in love with you, Star. You're my best friend and I'm in love with you. I know that now."

Her tears let loose at that point, a happy sob escaping her lips. It's frustration and heartache finally releasing from her charred up chest and he tears up because of it. He steps closer.

"What about," Star sniffs, wiping at her wet cheeks with the front of her wrists and choking back tears, "What about us going back to how we were before?"

"You're my best friend, and I didn't want that to change. So I thought a lot of these things were just that – us going back to the way things were," he shrugs, huffing a little. His cluelessness the past couple of weeks now frustrate him as much as it frustrated their friends. "And, yeah, maybe I still want things to be the same in the end. But there are things that I kept feeling for you that I couldn't ignore anymore, and I guess I just finally caught on to what my heart wanted."

He reaches for her palms, clammy and covered in grime, just like his, and brings them up to hold in his own.

"I told you once that I've never been bored after you moved in. I meant that, Star. And if you're okay with it," his thumb traces against the scabs that have been left over from previous fights – the ones he's already memorized, "I'd like to never be bored ever again. With you."

He doesn't get a voiced answer. Instead, she tackles him into a hug and buries her face into the crook of his shoulder and holds on tight, arms wrapped around his. His hoodie becomes damp and her cries become muffled. He wants to hug her back – to wrap her tight and bury his face into her hair and never let go, but there's a shooting pain that stabs consistently at his limb and it's _blinding_ -

"Arm," Marco squawks, "Arm. Arm. Arm."

"Oh, right," she doesn't go far after releasing him. "Right, right. Sorry."

"It's, uh, it's fine," he chuckles lightly. "Just kinda sore from the whole…explosion thing."

"Yeah," she sniffs, her right hand clearing most of the tears she's managed to subside. Star brings the other hand gently up to his face, cupping his cheek. She examines him a little more carefully – a bruise is forming on the right side of his forehead, and there's a cut by his left ear, but other than that and his arm he seems mostly undamaged. "That must've hurt a bit."

Star's hand is dry and dirty on his skin but it's still warm to the touch. His cheek heats under her palm while her thumb traces back and forth where his mole sits. There are still traces tear tracks on her hearts and he raises his own fingers to dry them off, and his touch leaves static that jumps between both of them. It's the kind of static that makes your heart jump, the kind where you feel it race up your arms and fill your chest. It's transmissible – just like the smile that spreads across her face.

"Hey Marco?"

He swallows, watching her head tilt up towards him, "Yeah?"

"I love you, too."

And she presses onto her toes and kisses him with a force that makes him reel back, catch his footing, and hold on.

It is kinda like those action movies he'd make her watch – with his arm reaching around her waist to keep himself steady and kiss her to the sounds of cheers and affection from warriors and friends alike. And it's real – they're real, and for the first time ever for him, love is real too. It's not pretend, because he's feeling it right now, against her tear-stained lips that won't stop smiling and making their teeth clack. He feels it in his cheeks that are hot under her touch, in the grip of his hands against her waist because she isn't close enough. He feels it when he thinks of spending every Thursday under a warm fuzzy blanket with her – or even every lonely, quiet moment with the loudest girl he knows.

Janna wolf-whistles in the back and he's brought out of his thoughts back to reality – where, while it feels like it's only them two, they're also surrounded by joyous and rambunctious friends (and her parents. He shoves that thought in the back of his mind as soon as it settles in, though).

When Star lets go and he rests his forehead against hers, he opens her eyes to see her looking up at him, a light smile biting back infectious laughter. It's the happy kind that makes you feel like you have wings (in her case, they flutter – he hears them beat wildly behind her hair) and feel like you can fly, and he loves it. He loves her.

It's real, and he knows she feels it all too.


	2. Chapter 2

_**sincerety of the stars (sincerety of black holes)**_

 **Summary: At Mewni's Ball, to celebrate the defeat of Toffee, Marco envelops himself in the misery of watching his best friend escorted onto the dancefloor, and the confusing feeling that builds inside every time she dances with someone that isn't him.**

 **A.N:** Decided to make this a series. If you read the first chapter of "now there's no place else I could be but here in your arms," you'll notice Marco listed several key moments that had him realize he has feelings for Star.

And now, without further ado, I give you those moments, worked backwards from his realization to his absolute cluelessness, so you can get the full Marco-in-denial experience.

Be sure to comment, please!

* * *

Marco's not huge on dances.

Sure, he'll go to a few, but his luck has never been great with them. The Blood Moon Ball is a pretty good example – a party he essentially snuck into (Star claims he "crashed it" – which is false) and then was almost burned to death by his best friend's date. And while dancing with her under a shimmering red light was…different, to say the least, and it resonated with him strongly, it still didn't go well (considering, again, he almost died). The Echo Creek Formal is another instance, too, which he and Jackie ditched anyway only to interrupt their date by saving his best friend in a grave yard battle.

So, it's not surprising that he's not having the time of his life at Mewni's Celebratory Ball. A ball hosted to rejoice in the defeat of Toffee - who had wreaked havoc on the Kingdom for two generations, and to celebrate the reclamation of Mewni. The celebration took a while to make, of course – the Kingdom itself needed three weeks to fully repair itself, street-widening and rebuilding and all, and that was memorialized too. Though, a majority of the spotlight was on the young princess, center of all the attention from commoners and nobles alike, but especially his own.

Marco had been casually talking with Kelly, Tad, Tom, and Janna when she was being announced into the throne room. A harp played, violinists strummed along to a beat as she stepped through the doors, calm and graceful, a sound so unlike Star Butterfly that it was almost comical. Almost.

Because he caught sight of her as she held her gown in her hands and lifted her eyes to greet her people, and it was like time slowed to a near halt.

Her hair was half tied up, ribbons popping out and keeping it all in place. And a dress he's never seen her in before – long and pink and off the shoulder – twirled around her and moved almost on its own. And her own crown, with a heart at its center, completed the look. She was beautiful, breathtakingly so, with gasps filling the room that agreed to his silent declaration.

It's been hard lately; identifying the feeling in his chest whenever he sees her - where it feels like his lungs fill with air and capsize, then rise up and bubble into his throat until it's stuck there. It's happened at the most random of times: when she's laughed at something he's said, or when she's smiled at him over the royal dining table over a plate of creamed corn, or even when she was just shooting narwhals out of her wand in the courtyard. It freaks him out, because he's never really felt that before. Sure, he's crushed on the same girl for years, but that sensation was always the same – flushed cheeks, sweaty palms, a quicker heartbeat…he's always been able to tell.

He knew it with Jackie, because Jackie had been a constant feeling. And it never really changed. Until a few weeks ago, when his thoughts were always sidetracked, and that blush he was always accompanied with when she was around reserved itself, as if it was waiting for someone else.

(Even when they ended things, his heart and his head were calm. No dramatic fights, no tears shed, no stutter on his lip or sweat on the back of his neck. Just a hug that felt like the introduction of a new friend and a whisper of luck and a promise to be cool with one another at the end).

But this? It was different. He wasn't sure what it was. And now, seeing her glide through the crowd towards the King and Queen, the feeling was even more panning. His mind short-circuits, his skin jumps, and that air that can't come up and through his mouth jams in his chest until it feels heavy, like he swallowed rocks.

Star Butterfly was stunning, breath-taking, and he had absolutely no idea what to do.

Her blue eyes flitted across the room, like she was searching for something. And then they landed on him, and she smiled, lifting a cautious arm to wave at him without it attracting him any attention. He waves back when he remembered he had hands, and his skin jumps in the fabric of his white suit.

Marco really wanted to dance with her. He wanted to waltz with her under a light that radiated off their skin to music that hypnotized the masses. But he doesn't.

The headache starts when the first person makes it to her before he could.

He doesn't know why it troubles him so much; it's a _dance_ , after all, and Star has no moral obligation to dance with only him. To pay attention to only him. He knows that. And can he truly blame the people that want her attention? He most certainly wants to, and there's a red hot feeling in his stomach that boils up into his mouth, and it feels different than before. He hates it. He hates knowing he's standing there alone in the middle of the room, watching his best friend be whisked away to the sound of pretty music, and he hates how she looks like she's enjoying it. He hates the feeling it leaves. He swallowed the sight of a young gentleman bowing down to her and offering his hand, allowed it the power to swell up in his mind until his head pounded, and turned and walked away.

So here he sits, in a blanket of his own disconcerting and conflicted misery, watching her dance with yet _another_ Noble from a faraway corner of the room. The fellow looked to be a member of the Waterfolk Kingdom, whom Star has been quite popular with tonight (a _stupid_ bunch, honestly – well, if you ask him, anyway).

He knew deep down what he's doing is pretty pathetic; watching his best friend be swept off her feet every few minutes by someone new, and having it annoy him so much but refusing to take his eyes away from her. Plus, he has a collection of table cards he took sitting at his feet now. For every new dance partner she has, he slowly tears a card apart. It's not comforting in any sort, but it helps…kind of. The headache lingers, though, growing thicker.

"Having trouble there, buddy?"

Tom leans against the pillar Marco's next to, arms crossed with a smirk on his face. Marco gives him a quick once over from his seat – his red tux has a smudge of yellow on it. Buttered corn, probably. He doesn't give him any more attention than that, turning back to his project of safely projecting his annoyance with card-tearing. He hears the sound of a chair dragging across the floor and being placed where Tom previously stood.

"Y'know," Tom starts, crossing his arms over the back of the chair, "my life coach is somewhere by the food; he met some guy and they're really hitting it off." His eyes slide away from the dancefloor to his friend, sitting in a hunched heap of obvious jealously. "But if you need to get some anger off your chest, I can go grab him for you."

"I don't need to talk to Brian," Marco grumbles. "I'm fine."

"Oh yeah, _sure_. _Sure_ you are, bud," Tom says, sarcasm dripping off his tongue like molten lava. He chuckles, taking some of Marco's handiwork off the floor. "So what's this?"

Marco glares at him from the corner of his eye, then reaches over to snatch the papers in Tom's palm. He splits them a bit more. "I'm ripping these cards apart."

"Because Star's being flirted with left and right, correct? And it bothers you?"

He tears the pieces apart a little more aggressively, eyes downcast and watching as the papers fall to the floor. "No."

"Pony Head has this nickname for you: 'Earth Turd?'" Marco groans, sinking into his chair further. "Yeah, that. Well, to me you're kinda acting like an Earth Turd."

"Thanks, Tom. Have you ever considered taking Mr. Candle's job and being a school psychologist?"

"Oh, I'd be terrible at that," Tom ignores the judgmental snort from his friend. "But you're a mess dude. And you need a wakeup call – fast."

"There's honestly no reason for you to be here," Marco remarks, finally looking up at his friend. Tom stares back at him, hard, eyes slanted and disapproving. "I'm perfectly fine. I don't wanna dance, I rather just be over here and watch. So why don't you go have fun and leave me alone?"

"Dude…" The demon attempts to keep his frustration at bay, but Marco was freaking _annoying._ He didn't know how much more of this self-pity he could take before he ended up tossing him into the Lake of Fire. "What are you _doing_?"

"We went over this," Marco, exasperated, throws a hand out towards the pile of what used to be table assignments. "I'm ripping things. I'm having a great time." He wasn't. He slouches over, digging his elbows into his knees and resting his head on his hands. Taking a peak up across the dancefloor, he notices Star now being offered a flower from what seemed to be an aristocrat of some sort, and her ecstatic expression as she takes it makes him want to barf.

"I mean," Tom groans, picking up a littered piece of paper. "What are you doing about _Star_?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh my Underworld," Tom drops the paper, pinching the bridge of his long nose. "You're not seriously that idiotic, are you?"

Marco sighs, ceasing the tears of his current victim (table eighteen, in italicized gold pen that sparkles almost mockingly). "Look, Tom –"

"Why are you just sitting here?" He accuses. "Why aren't you asking her to dance, or asking her out in general?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Didn't you and Jackie break up a few weeks ago?" Tom asks. Marco's neck kinks at the sudden, fast pace he lifts his head at. "Why aren't you and Star talking about what she told you before she left Earth? Or about how you feel about her?"

"How do you know Jackie and I broke up?" He focuses on the first question, the most important question that Tom should have _zero idea about_.

"Jackie told Janna, who told me," Tom rolls all three of his red eyes, as if the answer is so obvious.

"Does Star know?"

"No, Star doesn't know," Tom responds. "Why the heck would she know?"

"Well, _you_ know," Marco's headache gets heavier, weighing down on him. "And if Janna told _you,_ she could have told, I dunno, _Pony_ _Head_ , and –"

"If Pony Head knew, everyone would know," Tom affirms. "Can you chill out? Star doesn't know, okay?"

"Good," Marco replies, settling back into his chair comfortably. "I'd like to keep it that way."

"You should tell her, though," Tom insists. His already small tolerance for patience is shortening. "I don't know why it'd be such a problem for her to know."

"It's not on my agenda to bother her with it."

"You two broke up for a reason," Tom explains shortly, as if Marco actually needs to hear it. He doesn't, he'd love to remind his friend, and he'd much rather stuff the torn parchment up his nose instead. "Are you seriously gonna try telling me that it isn't because you like Star?"

Marco goes back to ripping table eighteen's card. "I don't 'like' Star. She's my best friend."

"You've been swimming in a lava pool of denial for weeks. Aren't you over it already?" He gestures to where Pony Head and Janna laugh along with Tad, sitting comfortably on top of Kelly recounting a story of some sort. "We all are."

"I'm not 'in denial,' Tom," Marco snaps. "I don't know what I feel in regards to Star, okay? Why don't you worry about your own romance-issues?"

"I don't have romance-issues," Tom chortles. "I'm good. I think Janna's cool and I wanna try asking her out soon. I was thinking a picnic on the Dock of Unending Torment," He ignores the snort to his left. "You, on the other hand? You're a wreck."

"Tom –"

"You're literally sitting here moping as Star gets hit on by random strangers," Tom declares. He reaches over and snatches Marco's freshly tattered card from his lap. "You've been ripping these things apart for half an hour. You do know people need to know where they're being seated, right?"

"I can't _like_ Star, alright?" Aggravated, Marco drops his card to the ground, forgotten. He scowls at his friend, or so-called - he was doing a number on his already rotten mood right now and he had a few choice words for him that weren't in the 'friend' category. "I just can't. Why are all of you constantly throwing this in my face?"

"Dude, what is _wrong_ with you?" Tom boils. "What the heck are you so scared of?"

"I'm not –"

"It's like you're scared of your relationship with Star changing," he throws his hands in the air, like every ounce of sympathy has disappeared from his body. "Newsflash, Diaz – it has already. And it's not just on her end, it's on yours' too. What is your problem anyway? You know she already likes you. You like her too, but you rather sit there in your own self-pity instead of just admit it.

"What are you gonna do if you end up losing her for good?" Tom rises out of his chair, frown deepening. It's almost like fire is licking the edges of his ears, ready to burst. "What then?"

What then? Well the first time that almost happened, Marco shoved his face in oatmeal at three AM and couldn't stop crying. So, there's that. He'd like to not think about that week and a half again. And frankly, after everything else that's happened, he wasn't sure he'd be able to even _handle_ losing Star again. Losing Star felt exactly like how she left – like a part of himself vanished into thin air, and left a hole where she was supposed to be. Like the night sky was filled with cosmos and colors and billions of stars, and suddenly it's all dark and black. A boring life, a boring world.

He didn't want that. Of course he didn't want that.

But she's still a princess. She still has a home in an entirely different dimension, and she has a _future_ here. Where does he fit after she accepts that future? An Earth kid with a red belt in Tang Soo Do, with a pretty strong left hook – there's no place for him here.

What if she can't even come back home – to his home? After this summer, after everything has settled in Mewni, what is he even supposed to do?

While Marco's inner thoughts battled, Tom takes a long shake of his head, sighing. It was a fight Marco had already lost, and yet he still sat there in disputed ground. "You gotta figure this stuff out yourself, Marco."

Tom quickly stomps away, leaving a flicker of a flame in the air before it burns out. Marco runs his hand through his hair, as if the simple motion with shed away the feeling of dread lodged in the back of his throat. He kinda wants to yell at Tom for being so pushy, but he also knows that nothing that comes out of his mouth will be worth the public fight. And like that flame Tom left behind, his anger has burned out and left a hole of confusion welling at the center of his forehead. He tries to search the dancefloor for Star again, for some semblance of normalcy and, albeit unpleasant, comfort, but even she has disappeared.

 _So this ball_ _ **sucks**_ _._

He really wants to just slip away from the ball, rip these heavy shoulder tassels off and throw them out the window, and sink into the royally-provided comforter made of silk and thick cotton in his temporary room. And yeah, he wants to stare up at the ceiling and curse the world for a little bit in what would be deemed as self-pity, but that didn't mean he was _jealous_ because of Star. He can't be jealous.

" _You gotta figure this stuff out for yourself."_

If anything, the amount of Nobles and Aristocrats hitting it off with her just solidified the fact that he made no sense in this fancy world of hers. What did Tom know, anyway? He was the future King of the Underworld – he'd never have to worry about being with someone of upper status. Sure, being with Janna of Earth would be a little odd, but unlike him, she fit the bill in Tom's world almost perfectly. Her strange interest in the occult and the dead would allow her to make Tom's castle her own personal playground.

Marco didn't belong on Mewni. He belonged in Miss Skullnick's AP statistics course. He belonged at the dojo on Saturday afternoons, crushing Jeremy. He belonged in Echo Creek, where he could be the Safe Kid.

But at the same time, there was that churning in his gut that told him while maybe he didn't fit in with Mewni, he did fit by Star's side. And whether that was on the couch in his house or in the gardens of Butterfly castle, he should be there for her. Right next to her, supporting her with everything he has. And she him, like she always has.

And -

 _Yeah. Of course._

Of course he's scared. He's terrified.

 _Terrified of losing Star, terrified of_ _ **being**_ _with Star. Geez, I'm pathetic._

Marco's head falls into the comfort of his open palms, the weight crushing his knees. Thinking about this was tiring. Thinking about Star was tiring, and he really just wanted it all to _stop_ -

"Hey."

Marco's head quickly shoots up to meet the eyes of the girl he'd been ripping things over for the past forty minutes. "Oh. Uh, hey Star."

Star's casual smile makes his chest dip in, retreating. He pushes away the feeling, taking a deep breath. _Ignore what Tom said. He's an idiot. Nothing's changed._

She gestures to his crumbled and ripped table cards that litter his pantsuit and the floor around him. "Whatcha doing?"

"Um," He swallows. He picks up two shredded pieces of thick index cards, one from table seven and the other from table sixteen, before folding them over in half. "Origami?"

Her head tilts adorably, earrings jingling. "Ori-who-now?"

"That's not important," he brushes the shredded paper off his lap. "I wasn't really getting anywhere with it anyway."

"Oh," she says slowly. "So, you're like…not busy, then, right?"

"Not at the moment, no." _Not ever, actually. But_ _ **you've**_ _been busy, with literally every noble in the fricken_ _ **Kingdom**_.

"Well, then, since you have time," she drawls, before stepping back and pinching the sides of her pink dress in both hands. She gracefully curtseys, bowing her head just a bit with the perfect precision a princess should have before coming back to stand and offering her white-gloved hand towards his motionless form. "May I ask for a dance, Gentleman?"

Six words were all that was needed to flip a switch in Marco's half melted brain. Suddenly that bitterness that swept through him for the majority of the night doesn't feel so cold; it's replaced by a warm feeling that covers him in a cloud and lifts him up, and all he can do is gape at the person who did it.

He doesn't realize he's been staring at her for so long until Star's charming expression becomes confused.

"What?" Star's hands reach up to cup both her cheeks. "Is there something on my face?"

He snaps out of it then, shaking his head slightly. "Yes," he says quickly, a short blurt before he blushes. "I mean, no, uh – yes. Yes."

"'Yes?'"

"Yes."

Star twirls a loose strand of blonde hair around her finger nervously. "'Yes,' you'll dance with me? Or 'yes,' there's something on my face?"

He laughs, feeling himself genuinely smile for the first time all night. "Yes, I'll dance with you. I'd be honored to."

Her grin stretches from ear to ear, and that feeling comes back – the jump in his chest that's bursting to come out. Their hands meet half way, but Star is the one that pulls him out of his chair, dizzy in his steps and thighs weak from sitting the whole time, and drags him over to the dancefloor. Star's hair whips around her when she stops, turns and lifts their jointed hands up. She takes his other arm and guides it around her waist, where Marco allows himself to rest comfortably. Her own arm travels up to his shoulder and holds on, meeting his gaze in giddy delight.

"Sorry it took me so long to come see you," Star begins stepping along to the rhythm of the music, careful to avoid the other couples waltzing around them. "I wanted to dance with you first, but everyone kinda hounded me."

"It's okay. You're the princess who saved Mewni. Who can blame them?" What surprised him is how casual he is about it in comparison to a few minutes ago. His mood has done a complete 180, and all it took was Star holding onto him and stepping to the sound of violins.

"Yeah, I guess," she chuckles hesitantly, looking off to the side. "You're first priority, though."

"You, uh," his words catch. "You too?" _Stupid._

Star hums, eyes gazing over his face, and Marco nearly feels uncomfortable. But it's Star, and it gives him the chance to look at her up close for the first time. Her cheeks are shining more than usual, and her cheek emblems seem to have sparkles dusted at their centers. She's just like a star – a big, glittery beautiful thing, and he feels like a planet caught on her radar, spinning around her in an orbit known as the waltz.

"So Tom looked pretty mad at you before."

Marco feels the electricity that cuts off all thinking to his frontal lobe. A lightbulb flickers. That's…not the topic of conversation he was hoping for. And he didn't expect her to be _watching him_ that whole time, either. He swallows. "Did he?"

"Yeah," she says, looking worried. "Is everything okay between you two?"

"Uh," Marco's gaze shifts towards table fifteen (or, what he thinks is table fifteen. He doesn't know which table is which – stealing and destroying those table cards _may_ have been a bad call), where Tom and Janna chat amongst themselves over two glasses. He notices Tom's face shift towards the two of them, Janna following, and Tom raises an eyebrow. Then, after a moment, he smirks, raising his drink in his direction. "Yeah. He just…doesn't really understand something. It's dumb."

"Oh," she pauses, clicks her tongue. "You guys are cool, though, right?"

He nods, looking back at her. "I think so."

"Good," relief flows off her in waves. "We have enough junk to worry about."

Well, she did, with her mother and Eclipsa and the Kingdom. He had all the time in the world to be a mess of feelings. It gave him something to do when she was busy training.

"You look really cute, by the way."

A blink. "Huh?"

"You look cute in shoulder tassels," she repeats. Her fingers twiddle with the tinges of gold that hang from them, distracting herself. Her cheeks are red. "I've told you that before, right?"

"Not that I can recall," Marco answers. He hates the shoulder tassels, really. The few times he's worn them have only been for her, because of some sorta stupid status requirement the kingdom had. But they bother him a little less now. Just a little.

"Well, you know Star, you look –"

"Amazing?" Star giggles, an eyebrow raised in expectance. _He's such a predictable, cute idiot._

"Well, yeah, you do," He utters. "I was gonna say you look really, really beautiful." Star's surprised stare makes his cheeks flush. "You've probably heard that all night, though."

"I have," Star says, after a pause. Her arm goes further up so that her hand rests comfortably on his shoulder. She smiles simply. "But not from anyone else that matters."

She takes both of his hands and spins underneath the little bridge they create. She's taking so much room in their own little world, but somehow it seems that their space has expanded. Star comes back to him with a quick shuffle with wide eyes.

"Plus, you're like, the best dancer here," Star gushes. He opens his arm to let her stretch across, then pulls her back into him, catching her by waist. The dress twirls and tangles around his pants suit before fluttering back to her, like butterfly wings. "See?"

"I wouldn't say I'm the 'best' dancer," he corrects. He wouldn't say he's the best at anything, really.

"Sure you are! Remember when you taught me that dance they showed on _Fiesta De La Noche_?"

Marco thinks back to a few Thursdays ago, before the mess with Toffee began. She had grabbed the remote from Marco's lap and, to his displeasure, paused the show. She jumped out of their friendship snuggly, taking her warmth with her, and pointed at the screen, practically begging him to show her what the characters were doing. And he did, though begrudgingly at first, teaching her a few moves until they were tired and tuckered out and laughing at themselves into the late evening. "The salsa?"

"Yes! That one. I love that one," she lets him twirl her around under his arm, grasping his shoulder tightly when they met again. Her eyes twinkle with delight. "You're really good at that dance."

"Thanks," he fails to mention that, while Star had smashed his feet several times that Friendship Thursday, she was pretty good at it too. A near natural by the time she learned the steps correctly. "This is definitely not the music we'd salsa to, though."

"Yeah, this kinda music is definitely more…folk-ish," she agrees. "And old. I should change it."

"You can do that?"

"Oh, I _totally_ could. Manfred kinda sucks at DJing, and I'm sure Pony would appreciate the music tempo change," she takes out her wand, letting the crystal in its center glow. "Dare me to do it?"

"Dare you to do _what_ , Star?"

His hand immediately releases her waist, and Star's drops back to her side, as if the comment burns them. They jump a few inches apart, but keep their hands interlocked, and Star's wand hides behind her back. Queen Moon, in bright blue and covered in silver gems observes them quietly, a sleek eye brow raised. She was always the more intimidating of Star's parents, though he likes to think his relationship with her has improved since he started living in her castle. Marco'd like to keep it that way.

"Oh, uh," Marco nods quickly, greeting the older woman. "Hey, Queen."

"Moon is fine, dear," Star's mother smiles, nodding in return. "I'm not interrupting anything important, am I?"

" _Mom_ ," Star bristles. She blushes, glaring up at her. _We were in_ _ **the middle**_ _of something, interrupter,_ it reads. Moon clearly gets the hint, looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry, Star. But I do need to borrow you for a second. We have speeches to read, and you're needed on stage with us."

"But, Marco and I –"

"It's okay," Marco interrupts. His hand is still being held in hers, and he squeezes it gently for reassurance, support she needs. "I can't have you all to myself, right?"

She pouts, looking back and forth between her mother and her best friend, before sighing, shoulders sagging inward. "Fine." She stares at him longingly, a sorry etched in her face, while Marco just shrugs and smiles. He can wait – he doesn't mind. He got his dance, after all, and he wasn't in nearly such a bad mood. _Maybe Tom was right_. _Maybe I just needed to dance with her._ Star moves backwards, following after her mother but keeping her stare locked on his, but stops. Her hand is still linked in his, holding onto one another and lifted mid-air. He nearly forgot they were holding hands – the feeling almost natural. She glances back and forth between where they're joined and the kind boy who holds her. "Um, save me another dance, okay?"

"I will," he assures. His hand finally lets go of hers when his arms starches as far as it can, and it slumps back to his side, still tingling. "I promise."

The feeling is back – the buildup of air caught in his throat and his skin rising on edge as he watches her follow after mother. But it's not entirely unwelcome this time. It's scary, but it's comfortable – if that makes any sense. Like the feeling is natural, but the idea still sets him on edge.

He never saw it coming. He never thought it was real. It hit him a few dozen times and he still didn't take notice. Seeing her smile made his day brighter. Her laughter was contagious. Spending Thursday nights with a pizza and a DVD brought from his collection back on Earth was the highlight of every week. And the way she looked at him, the way she made him feel – he wonders if that's how she's felt these past couple of months; with rocks in her throat and the heavy sensation in her chest pushing her into the ground but never giving hold.

 _Maybe everyone's right._

Whatever that feeling is, the feeling of blockage in this throat, suddenly it opens way and he can breathe again. A heavy sigh follows, and his heart beats just a tad faster, and he feels it and he knows. It's different, it's new, and he _knows._

And if that's what falling in love is, then he's deep in it already.


End file.
